


I Want to Say These Words Today

by Artist_in_Space



Category: Good Omens
Genre: Aziraphale Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Aziraphale loves Crowley, But it's just Crowley because he wants to say his I love you in a special day, Crowley Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Crowley loves Aziraphale, Day of the Hearts, Fluff, I Love You, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, They just love being with each other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, this is just sweetness overload believe me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22733500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artist_in_Space/pseuds/Artist_in_Space
Summary: It's Crowley and Aziraphale's first Valentine's Day, and Crowley has prepared it to the T. He has a whole agenda, and he's going to top it all off by saying the three words that he has wanted to say ever since the world began.In hindsight, however, he should've at least informed Aziraphale that he had prepared for a date.(This is just Valentine's Day fluff, and our lovable demon and angel being adorable idiots.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	I Want to Say These Words Today

**Author's Note:**

> My friend, Ellie, gave me a bunch of links of the Ineffable Husbands just being cute. And then challenged me to write one. 
> 
> I hope y'all like it, because this is just pure fluff alskdahja

His phone was pinging every now and then, telling him about the important day that is today. He’s been up and at it ever since midnight struck, obsessed with making his plans the most memorable one that he and his angel would experience.

And so, he wasn’t exactly a mess, quite the contrary actually—his flat was spotless, and there was the candles right there, and he was going to have that dinner that his angel loved delivered. But of course, he had to create a great impression, one that made him look and _look_ great, because really, _he_ deserved the best.

He patted his suit—an actual, tailored suit—and looked at himself in front of the large mirror. For all his cool, he was twisting in nervousness; there was no other word for whatever Crowley was doing.

He was _fretting._ He could hear Aziraphale’s teasing _tut tut, my dear boy, you look great._

 _I look great,_ he thought, nodding to himself and smiling at the thought of Aziraphale’s smile. _Besides, he… He’ll love whatever I’ve planned. Yeah. Because he loves me._

He could still remember the moment when Aziraphale spoke the three words, the three words that he never would’ve thought would be said by him, to him. It wasn’t each of the other’s faults—Heaven and Hell would’ve probably smote them for even ‘fraternizing’ and confessing to one another. The last thing that Crowley would ever want to be faced with is a world without Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had fretted too, he could picture it clearly. They had visited Tadfield for the holidays, or the Christmas season, just to check up on their acquaintances. It was a pretty spot to stargaze as well, being so far from the pollution of the city.

_Crowley had been staring up into the stars, enjoying the snow, when Aziraphale gasped out something he hadn’t understood in the first try._

What was that, angel? _He had teased, posturing a little and waggling his eyebrows._ I didn’t hear that.

I— _, Aziraphale had looked like he had an epiphany, for some bloody reason, when they were under the stars._ I just. Oh dear, oh my dearest. I, I love you.

_And for Someone’s sake, Crowley had reacted the worst way possible._

Ack, angel! Don’t spring that up on me! _He had brushed it off so easily, and buried himself in the tartan blankets that Aziraphale had brought with them. Aziraphale had laughed so freely, and he had peeked up from the blankets, just to see Aziraphale light up, like a star in the night._

You look like a star, _he had said, in lieu of saying I love you too, because he was, even if he had been hung up over this angel for several millennia, still a demon who was still iffy about saying those words._

Aziraphale had smiled even brighter, that night. He had seemed to understand.

But that wasn’t enough, Crowley knew.

Oh no. It wasn’t.

Today—it was Valentine’s Day. He wasn’t going to mess Valentine’s Day, even if it’s a man-made celebration and Valentine wasn’t even a bloody cupid. He wasn’t going to hide under blankets—physically and _especially_ emotionally. He was going to say the three words that he had wanted to say from when he received that smile when he made a miracle for Aziraphale for Hamlet, or when he had saved him from the unfortunate event that was going to befall him in the Bastille. He was going to say it, after they had survived the not-Apocalypse.

“I love you,” he practiced in front of the mirror. His cheeks burned traitorously. _“No,_ not like a fact, with _feeling,”_ he reprimanded himself. “ _I love you, angel.”_

His heart felt like it jumped to his throat, and it felt so full, and it was just such—such a wonderful feeling. He was a demon full of love. He was _in love and he was loved._

He breathed out slowly, just in time to see the sun come up.

He wasn’t going to mess up today.

* * *

Crowley, for all his wits and preparedness, neglected to do one small thing that could’ve changed the course of the day.

He, technically, forgot to tell Aziraphale that they were going places, going on a date. Nope, he had forgotten—and the angel didn’t really go to _dates,_ so when he bounded up the shop, the Bentley looking better than perfect, bouquet of flowers in hand—no one answered his knock.

“Az— _angel!”_ He called out impatiently, tapping his foot. He didn’t want to open the door—he wanted to see the angel be surprised, have that little _‘Oh Crowley, you shouldn’t have!’_ exclamation. It was probably a product of watching too many romantic flicks for the past few weeks.

(He wanted to be prepared. Say the right words. Even if they were cheesy.)

He fished out his phone and called the bookshop, and he could hear it ring inside.

 _Come on, pick up, angel…_ he thought, glaring at the flowers in his hand.

It took him six more calls to realize that, maybe, Aziraphale wasn’t there.

 _Bloody hell,_ he thought, opening the bookshop door open, and tried to pinpoint where the angel was at. There was a lingering presence, not too prominent, meaning Aziraphale hadn’t even been home for at least ten hours. _He’s not home? Where would he be today?_

He frowned, conjuring up a vase. He turned to the flowers and glared even darker, and in a scathing tone, threatened, “Make sure you won’t _wilt_ , you won’t suddenly get _spots_ or whatever. Got that?”

The bouquet of tulips, hydrangeas and lavenders in his hand shook, but the flowers knew that it was their _time_ to shine. Personally grown by the demon, they’ve been given the strictest orders to _do better because I’m giving you to Aziraphale you got that? When you meet him you’ll see why you need to be in the best shape._

The flowers haven’t really met the ‘Aziraphale’ but they seemed to have connected—how, since they were flowers, but they did—that the “angel” that their owner frequently spoke with a fond tone was the same person.

And so they shook, but because they were both terrified and excited.

“Good,” Crowley murmured, and he set the bouquet’s contents into the vase. “Alright, angel. Where the bloody hell are you on Valentine’s Day?”

* * *

Aziraphale was a creature of habit, so Crowley, theoretically, would have no problem finding for him.

But then, he quickly realized after going to St. James Park, the Ritz, and the shops that the angel frequented, he didn’t actually know what the angel’s agenda was usually during Valentine’s Day.

“ _Aziraphale,”_ he groused, and the love permeating the air—he didn’t even need to be an angel to feel it—made him even bitterer. “Where the bloody hell are you, angel?”

He was tired. He looked at his watch—and it read 11:30 am. He had started his search around 8 am. _Three hours. I missed the plant tour, the musical tour. At this rate, the lunch at the Ritz is a no-go._

He wasn’t exactly mad at not being able to follow his agenda. (That was a big lie but whatever.)

He was angrier at the fact that he might not be able to say what he wanted to say today.

Logically, he knew he could say the three words on any other day. He could say it before Aziraphale went to collect books, or before he drove around London. He could say it before Aziraphale heads out to buy those baked pastries he liked from a few streets away, or he could say it when they’re both on the couch in his flat, watching a movie.

He could say it anywhere.

But he wanted it today.

He wanted to say it _because_ it was Valentine’s day, and because Aziraphale loved traditions.

He didn’t _like_ celebrating some, but he was pretty sure that for a being of love who loves humanity, Valentine’s was important to the angel. Saying “I love you” on the day of love? The day where people are reminded to appreciate their valentines?

It was romantic enough that Crowley could gag at his own thoughts. But it was for Aziraphale, so it didn’t count.

It still didn’t alleviate the fact that he couldn’t bloody find the angel.

“You okay, man?” Someone said by his side. It was a guy—nothing impressive, but he had a bow strapped over his torso, and if he could see right, heart-ended arrows. It made him want to gag, because it was the same lot who probably had tees with _free hugs_ written on the chest. “You look like you swallowed a bitter pill.”

“Would like that even more, at this rate.” He muttered.

He blinked when the man just laughed.

“You lost your partner, did you?” The man inferred, and when Crowley turned to him in interest, he chuckled again. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. That’s what I look like when my wife is nowhere within my vicinity. _Oh Rosanna, where’d you go? I wanted to bring you to this shop, don’t be late._ Those stuff.”

“…Yeah,” Crowley nodded, bewildered that it was close to what he was feeling. “—but I doubt you looked like _me,_ trying to find my partner. _”_ He was pretty sure that he had looked demonic a while back. The ducks could feel it from a distance and they waded towards the end of the lake, just in case.

“Oh, no doubt, you looked like you were going crazy from the worry and the anger.” The man shrugged. “But you know, you could just circulate back to where your partner usually visits—“

“Tried that.”

“—but if you’ve tried that, try someplace where he wouldn’t check out.” He smiled brightly. “Usually, it becomes an accident. There was a time—on our second anniversary, we both wanted to surprise one another, because we were so happy that we even reached two years. Maybe you and your partner had the same idea.”

He shifted in place. _Aziraphale, a surprise for me?_ He mulled it over. “Nah. Out of the… years I’ve known the guy, he wouldn’t just spring up a surprise on me. Especially—it’s, it’s our first Valentine’s. Together.”

The guy blinked. “Both of you are in love. That’s great, that makes more sense! The guy had the same idea!”

“ _No,”_ Crowley adamantly insisted, turning around and decidedly not pouting. “I already _checked.”_

A shrug. “Well, if you’re so stuck by that, sure. But I feel like he’s _at your flat, Crowley.”_

Crowley’s skin crawled, and he whipped around to see that the man had disappeared.

 _“Oh,”_ he breathed out, stumbling towards a bench. It wasn’t stupid that the man had a bow and arrow of hearts. It was a mockery of what he ‘did’ but he bloody well knew whom he had encountered. “Oh Someone—“

His mind was suddenly hit by a booming voice of _WELL? I THOUGHT YOU HAD AN AGENDA TODAY?_

He snapped himself out of his reverie and broke out into a run towards his Bentley.

He knew where his angel was.

* * *

Crowley saw him before he even recognized his flat, which was saying something because Aziraphale _was_ at his flat, but politely waiting for him in the lobby. He couldn’t help but let out a grin when he spotted the shock of white hair meters away from the parking lot, and then realized that he…didn’t really have anything at hand.

 _The surprise!_ He realized, frowning. _Oh no—I left them in the bookshop—_

He gripped his steering wheel, and realized that it was past his lunch reservation at the Ritz just like he had predicted. Normally, he would’ve just adjusted the meeting so that they’d have a spot, but _damn it,_ he went through the effort to book it normally! Just like how Aziraphale would love it!

He cursed under his breath, thumping his head on the steering wheel. _Bloody hell. If you just told him to stay put, he wouldn’t have waited here._

He swallowed and tried to compose himself, before walking inside the building.

“A—“, he called, hand stilling when Aziraphale had turned to him even before he could even finish his name.

Said angel was looking at him in a really nervous, but elated smile.

“Crow—Crowley!” Aziraphale greeted, excitedly bounding up towards him. Idly, Crowley noticed that the angel had also prepared himself for the day, going so far as to break out the ‘modern’ suit Aziraphale had bought to ‘blend in’ one time. It was a nifty look, cream colored coat and pants and light blue undershirt that matched his eyes.

The tartan bowtie was still there, with a matching tartan coat pocket.

He wanted to kiss the angel right then and there.

Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him, and ducked his head shyly. “Oh, dearest, I didn’t—know that you were out. I would’ve… prepared better, would’ve informed you earlier—“

He shook his head, and Crowley knew he was going to be hit by a barrage of words from the angel. Aziraphale had the tendency to explain everything so he wouldn’t be misunderstood nowadays (something that Crowley greatly appreciated).

“I. Had a surprise, and oh dear, I called you and then I realized telephones don’t really call mobile phones no matter how much I want it to, and then I thought, oh dear, I should probably approach him here, but then—but then I got distracted, I helped this woman have the courage to propose to her love, and then gave someone a blessing so that they could enjoy Valentine’s Day, and—“, he kept enumerating so many things, wringing his hands.

All the time, Aziraphale hadn’t left Crowley’s personal space—rather, swaying even closer, which made Crowley’s heart skip a beat. _This is his routine,_ he realized. _He goes out and performs small miracles to let people know that they’re loved._

 _Look at him,_ he thought for probably the nth time in his long life. _Out of everything You’ve created, he’s the most beautiful. How is he real, with me?_

The long list Aziraphale was giving suddenly ended, and Crowley’s gaze turned to the other man. “I really didn’t mean to, Crowley,” the angel was apologizing, tentatively reaching out to hold his hand. He was trembling. “I did want to let you have the best first Valentine’s Day, and I messed it up because I didn’t inform you. M…Maybe the next few times will be better?”

 _He loves me,_ Crowley thought again. _He wants to spend more days with me._

Against his will, because _someone, he loved this precious being,_ his face broke out into the softest grin he never thought he could ever muster. “Oh angel.” Something was bubbling up his chest, and he belatedly realized that it was pure, unadulterated laughter, of love that he couldn't keep in himself. “ _I_ _love you.”_

Aziraphale’s hand stilled for a moment, but through Crowley’s tears—when did he start crying? God, it felt like Her Grace was around him again, but now it _meant_ something, not just because it was God, but because it was from Aziraphale—he could see him brighten up in a way that no other being could ever do.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed out, in that way that indicated that he had seen something magical, or felt something exquisite. Now it was directed to him, and the demon could feel his black heart, shielded away from Her Love, become invigorated.

“ _Darling,”_ Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley couldn’t help it; he closed the gap between them with a kiss.

* * *

He could taste the faint wisp of chocolate undertones in the angel’s lips, but he stashed that little knowledge for later. Right now, he was probably experiencing the antonym of the Fall, probably called the Rise because it’s usually like that. Funny that one happened because of God, and the other one because of Aziraphale.

He didn’t know where it came from, but he was peppering Aziraphale’s face with kisses, which elicited delighted giggles from the angel. That laugh could end wars if he recorded it somewhere.

 _Christ,_ he thought, gazing at the gray eyes of his angel. _How’d I ever live without him by my side like this?_

“I love you—I love you too, dearest,” Aziraphale laughed, holding his hands. The angel tutted at him. “You wily serpent, I didn’t expect that!”

He shrugged, then slid his arms around the man, because he could. “Well,” he murmured, bowing his head to tuck his face in the angel’s neck. “Ssssurprisssse. And don’t blame me. You managed to tempt me enough to make me say I love you, and not even _privately,_ you bastard.”

“Me?” The angel had the gall to sound surprised. As if he didn’t know why. “ _Why—“_

“With your little bowtie and that little get-up you have today,” Crowley pressed a kiss onto his neck. “Then I learned that you had your own little surprise. I was going to say it in the safe confines of your shop, but then you were there.”

“I would’ve been there too,” Aziraphale pointed out, and he laughed again when Crowley hissed at him. “Alright, alright. I understand, my dear. But if you want to—to further celebrate Valentine’s, I have—um, wine here, and it’s _really nice.”_

That was a code of Aziraphale being a bit uncomfortable from the attention, so he nodded. “Yeah.” Crowley nodded, but he didn’t disentangle himself from the angel as Aziraphale moved towards the elevator to his flat. Instead, he walked in a slouching position, as if he didn’t want to break away from the hold.

It was probably a weird sight, because he was half-dragged half-lifted at this moment. But now he was just tired, yet so energized at the same time, the only thing he wanted to do was to stay near his angel in the closest way possible.

He could see Aziraphale smiling fondly too.

Suddenly it was a bit too much, honestly, so he breathed out a snort. “You know, angel, you taste like dark chocolate.” He grinned when Aziraphale stiffened. “Would it be correct to assume that you ate the chocolates that you were going to give to me, while waiting for me?”

“W-What? I--! ” Aziraphale punched in the button of the elevator towards his flat, at the third floor. “That’s. Not important, my dear.”

“Oh you _did! You got hungry!”_

Aziraphale’s cheeks burned, and _bingo, I’m correct, you predictable endearing angel_. “ _Crowley--!”_

He laughed loudly, and felt himself relax, content in his angel’s embrace. “You’re ridiculous, angel.”

His angel harrumphed, but he was so, so fond.

* * *

Despite all the hiccups—and his frantic trip around London to search for the angel—that smile that lit up the room made it all worth it. Aziraphale had appreciated every single thing he had prepared, even his last-second drive to the bookshop to retrieve the bloody flowers in a bouquet. It was worth the mild scolding he got from the man of the day himself, and worth the _aww_ s he had received from his frenzy.

Aziraphale, in all the centuries he had known him, was always worth it.

 _Besides,_ he thought as the angel held him in his arms as they watched a movie on the couch, settling in comfortably in the angel’s space as if he was to belong there. _I was able to say I love you._

He closed his eyes, giving himself a job well done.

_And he loves me too._

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, if you liked the fic, comment and kudos and let's revel in Good Omens, I can be reached in tumblr and twitter, I'm Artist-in-Space :D


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